Silver Blade
by Pentomino418
Summary: The gods never cared about us, their petty demigod children. They had let her die, just sat back and watched while my sister was torn apart. Yet, they had let me live, which seemed like an insult. One they would pay dearly for.
1. Chapter 1

**My first fanfic! Hope you like it!**

**I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

Fourth period science. My first day at Cambridge Middle School.

I was cramped in the back of the room, half sitting, half standing, behind my desk.

In no way was I listening to anything Mrs. Pierce had to say, only this time, it had nothing to do with ADHD.

My eyes were glued to the clock, and its slowpoke of a minute hand. I tried to threaten the clock to move faster.

My hands were sweating, clutching the sides of the desk. Why was I so nervous? My mission was simple. All I had to do was succeed, and Kronos would fulfill my request. He had to.

Just my luck, while I was lost in thoughts, the clock hand shifted and the bell echoed, signaling free period. I snatched my books and scrambled from my desk. Mrs. Pierce tried to say something, but I was already gone.

Once in the halls, I threw my books into a corner. I wouldn't need them anymore, not when I was done.

I rushed through the halls, dodging the other middle schoolers. Though free period wouldn't be over for another 30 minutes, I had to hurry, before anyone discovered my crime and I.

Looking behind me for any followers, I turned a sharp corner and entered a second hall. My eyes scanned the classrooms, searching for the targeted one.

Finally.

The last room in the end of the corridor. Study Hall.

I slipped inside.

The classroom was dim and silent. The teacher was out, as planned, and there was no one else in the room, except the target.

A boy my age, bending over a textbook, fuming and cursing. I wandered toward the back of the room, praying he wouldn't notice me. He didn't even look up.

I came to a stop behind him, pretending to have developed a suddent interest in the Periodic Table.

Taking a breath to calm my nerves, I advanced silently, my hands shaking. I reached into my sleeve, and unsheathed the weapon. A celestial bronze dagger. The blade hissed in contact with air, the green poison frothing around. I adjusted it in my hands, but for some reason, hesitated.

Come on, I fumed, what's wrong with you? Clutching the dagger so hard my knuckles turned white, I drew in a sharp breath.

My hand shook as I readjusted the blade. You can do it, I urged, think of your sister.

My heart grew cold and I shook with barely contained rage.

She'd still be here if it wasn't for... if it wasn't for...

Gritting my teeth, I drew back the knife, and brought it down toward his neck.

**Like it? Hate it? Please review! Constructive critisism is accepted.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay! Second chapter!**

**Thanks cocoformonsters for your review.**

**I might make this a Nicoxoc. What do you think?**

**Lydia's POV**

I should have noticed when the cussing stopped. When his form tensed, when the hand crept toward the hilt by his side.

But I didn't realize until my blade was in motion, flying toward the base of his neck.

In the blink of an eye, he whipped around, drew his sword and parried my strike away.

I was so shocked over his skill, the way he swung the sword as if it was an extension of his arm, I let myself get distracted. My dagger skittered away.

My breath caught when I got my first look at his face.

A deathly pale scowling face.

One with shaggy black hair, shadowing dark, furious eyes.

Plus a wickedly sharp black iron blade he dug under my chin.

The hostile glower marring his face was replaced with a startled stare.

His dark eyes flickered to the dagger, its poison sizzling into the carpet, and his expression hardened.

"Can I help you?" He said snidely, fixing me with a dark stare.

Rage churned inside me. Arrogant, this one. But not for long.

In one swift movement, I drew a celestial bronze sword and held the point toward his chest.

"Nah, I'm good," I smirked when his form tensed.

And I saw my chance.

**Sorry that was so short! I'll try and make it longer next time. Well, please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Third and longest chapter! Thanks to future author at work for reviewing.**

**Enjoy!**

Desperately, I lunged forward.

He dodged nimbly, and counterattacked.

After a few strikes and parries, I got an idea of his fighting style. Quick and flexible on defense, but stealthy on offense, like if you didn't keep moving, his blade would sneak its way to your undefended throat.

He was a good fighter and, I admit, a challenge.

I was going to kick his sorry butt.

I came at him with a swipe to the head. In a flash, he rolled smoothly to one side, came up kneeling, and returned with a side thrust.

Gritting my teeth, I slammed his blade away and slashed again, this time at his side.

He jumped back and I pressed forward.

I faked a jab at his head and dove at his chest.

He manuvered around me effortlessly and hacked downward.

Growling, I backed up as he advanced, not even breaking a sweat.

This was taking so much longer than I thought. I was expected back soon, with the head of this boy, back to Kronos as a spoil of war.

This guy wasn't cooperating.

He came at me with a swipe to the knee and I lept into the air, my senses opening up.

I was born to fight like this.

Again, I faked a slash at his head, but this time, I manuvered around his second strike and kicked his legs out from underneath him.

As I expected, he was back on his feet in a flash, but not completely focused.

He was flustered, disoriented, and not expecting my next move.

I ducked his blind lunge, and slashed the side of my blade across his cheek, satisfied by the sharp hiss, the burst of crimson blood, and the wince that followed.

Spinning my sword around, I slammed my hilt against the side of his head, successfully giving another wound, a good sized one that would start to bruise soon.

If he even lived that long.

This was my fatal flaw.

The one that would bring me down from a great victory.

And perhaps the one that caused my sister's death.

I had always told us that it was the gods, they had let her die and didn't care for us.

It was all their fault.

But was it _all_ their mistake? I asked myself frequently.

This was it.

I was vain.

And I was distracted, lost in a sea of memories.

The whistle of a black iron blade streaking toward my throat brought me back.

**What do you think? Please review!**


End file.
